Where Angels Fear to Tread
by Little.Miss.Xanda
Summary: James and Lily were desperate, they called on something they shouldn't have. Now Darkness follows Harry's every step.


**Disclaimer** : This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Written for Quidditch League Competition – Round Six**

 **Prompt – SEEKER** : You see that list of genres over there - yeah, how many of you don't venture further than the romance or friendship genre? Well, we're about to change that. Below are 10 genres which aren't used as much as some of the others, your task is to pick one and write a story for it. In each team, no more than one person may write for the same genre and you're more than welcome to cross genre it with a romance for example. **Genre picked** – Supernatural

 **Seeker for the Wimbourne Wasps**

* * *

 **Where Angels Fear to Tread**

He knew there was someone watching him. There always was. He had felt those eyes on him since he was a baby. However it was when he was in his cupboard broken and bleeding that he felt those eyes the best.

Part of him believed that whatever was watching him enjoyed those moments more which was why he could feel it better.

He had only told an adult about those eyes once.

He had been four and he had been scared, so he told his aunt about the eyes in the dark. His aunt had paled and locked him up. After that he just remembered a man dressed in black, telling him he would get rid of the demon in him and lots of screaming. He had been terrified but through all that he had still felt those eyes one him.

Now though he was eight and he did something that he had never done before.

"Hello," he whispered in the dark. "I'm Harry. Are you here to hurt me too?" he asked. He didn't really think that those eyes would hurt him, but he had been hurt by everyone else, so why not these mysterious eyes?

He almost jumped out of his skin in fright when bright hell-fire eyes appeared right in front of him and a sinister chuckle filled his tiny cupboard.

He didn't dare breathe. He _couldn't_ breathe.

Though as suddenly as they had appeared the eyes vanished, leaving Harry alone in the dark once again. Well... not quite as alone as it would seem.

* * *

Those little mortals always amused him so. Begging and crying for help. How amusing it was seeing them struggle and in the end not having even one little prayer answered.

If these humans only knew... God, angels... they had long stopped paying attention. They had stopped caring eons before this world had even been born. He would know, he had been one of the last ones who fell.

Though sometimes there were miracles in the world and that was all these little mortals needed to keep their faith. If he were being honest, it was something that he could respect – that is if he viewed the mortals as anything else than pure entertainment. Their petty wars were quite exquisite. A little push here, a little pull there and wham! World War 2! It was one of his better works to date, not that he was one to brag.

However sometimes, very rarely mind you, people actually knew their _Names_. Knew their Names and how to summon them. That situation had only happened once with him.

They were an interesting couple, their pleading and false bravado had entertained him enough to grant their request.

So it was that he spent the last few years more or less ignoring the world around him and observing the life he had saved on a whim.

He had to confess to being surprised when the tiny mortal had been able to tell that he was there. Not that the mortal knew what he was, just that he was there.

He had been highly amused when the mortals had summoned a priest to exorcise the child. As if he were so weak as to need someone's body to be on Earth, it was almost insulting – which was why that particular priest suffered a nasty accident.

Back to the child though, he had never thought that the child would actually talk to him.

So, as a gift, he had shown himself. Not completely of course, he didn't want to shatter the child's mind, at least not yet, but just enough so the child knew that he was in fact _there_.

If he had known the consequences of that whimsical act, maybe he wouldn't have done it.

* * *

The following nights his dreams had been full of carmine eyes and dark chuckles. Harry had been terrified, he truly had been, but underneath all of that there was this dark satisfaction.

He wasn't crazy. There _really_ was someone there.

That meant he wasn't alone. He was _never_ alone.

For a child who had only ever wanted _someone_ to be there for him it was an exuberant thought. So he did what any child in his position would have done, he talked to the someone watching. About everything and nothing at all. He just talked. Told it his fears, dreams, his darkest secrets.

He didn't see those eyes again, but that hardly mattered when he could feel them on him.

* * *

Before he realized it he had spent over a decade watching the child. Listening to anything he had to say. He was ashamed to admit that he had gotten somewhat attached to the child, so when he saw the little mortal being tortured by the Abomination, could he really be blamed when he interfered?

A bubble of Darkness formed around them, hiding them from view. He stayed hidden, only his eyes glowing in the dark.

The little mortal looked straight at him and a small smile spread on his lips.

"Hi."

He narrowed his eyes at the raspy sound, enjoying the sweet tone much more when it was silky soft.

"Who are you?" the Abomination snarled, making him glance at it.

"No one you should concern yourself with," he purred, vanishing in the blink of an eye only to reappear behind his little mortal. "Well... that is not entirely true. I am the one that will drag the shredded pieces of your soul to Hell if you touch what belongs to me. Are we clear?"

Even the Abomination was smart enough to know when he was facing something he couldn't beat. That instinct that every mortal had when facing one such as he, that little voice that told them _to run, hide, and don't look back_.

The Abomination took a step back when he let just a sliver of his aura show, eyes widening in absolute terror. He chuckled when realization appeared in those dull, blood-red eyes.

"Call for me, little mortal, when you're ready," he whispered in the delicate ear in front of him.

"I don't know your name." Harry whispered, a light shudder racing down his spine.

" _Asmodeus_." Was whispered in his mind, the name itself making Harry's hairs stand on end.

Harry opened his mouth to whisper the name of the one being that had always been with him, only to have a delicate finger keep them closed.

" _Only when you're ready._ " Came the whisper again and the Darkness around them vanished. He found himself at Hogwarts, memories that were not his own appearing in his mind and he knew what to do.

He did what he had to. He told Dumbledore that Voldemort was back, everything that happened in the memories that didn't belong to him.

When he went to sleep that night, those eyes still on him, he smiled.

"When I'm ready," he murmured, falling asleep with a smile on his lips.

* * *

"Asmodeus." He called when he was alone in Grimmauld Place. It had been years since he had last see the Fallen Angel. Three years. The war had been won just a few months ago and he had done everything he should have done. Now though... now he wanted to do something for himself.

He wanted Asmodeus.

He was ready.

"Little mortal," a deep purr came from behind him and he shuddered. He could feel the Darkness that surrounded the Fallen Angel but he wasn't afraid. He had been around that same Darkness since he could remember, how could he fear it? "Are you sure you're ready? I'll take you places where Angels fear to tread."

Harry could feel the smirk on his neck.

"Yes," Harry replied, leaning back onto the body that was pressing against him. "Take me."

A grin pulled at the lips that where mapping his neck.

"Oh, little mortal, I will."

In a flash of hell-fire they were gone, the ominous chuckle echoing in the house long after they had left.


End file.
